


Sonata in the Key of Three

by Thevina



Category: Slave Breakers - maculategiraffe
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevina/pseuds/Thevina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a request: <em>Slavebreakers -- Bran/Yves with a side of Holden.</em></p><p>Alerts: Threesome (d'oh!); double penetration<br/>A/N: Outline for the story is based on standard sonata format. The vignettes are set chronologically but do jump at non-standard intervals through the story arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonata in the Key of Three

I. Introduction

Engrossed in the newest book his master had bought for him, it took Yves a while to realize that the prickling sensation of being watched was exactly that. The master was out for the afternoon meeting with two potential buyers, so it wasn't him. He looked up and saw the new slave. Bran startled once he saw Yves looking — glaring — directly at him.

"It's not polite to sneak up on people," snapped Yves, then he softened his tone as he saw terror flicker across Bran's angelic features. "I'm not going to bite. Come in." Bran was all but wringing his hands, and he did as bidden, every mannerism docile and subservient. "You can sit next to me," Yves continued on, closing the book after he noted what page he was on. "Did you need something?"

Emotions flowed over Bran's mobile face like water. He parted his lips to speak, then pressed them firmly together and shook his head.

"That really wasn't meant to be a trick question," said Yves with gentleness. "Do you like to read?"

"I know how to, but I haven't had a lot of opportunity recently."

"The master is used to me and my book obsession, so if you play your cards right, learn fast, and don't do anything stupid, I wouldn't doubt that he'd buy you a book or two."

"Buy… for me?"

 _Sif,_ thought Yves, _he's gorgeous. But he's wound so tight he could spring apart any minute._

"The master has a huge heart. He's spoiled me for seventeen years. You're incredibly lucky to be here."

Bran nodded, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Yves reached out to rub Bran's shoulder. At first he leaned into the touch, a wistful sigh passing over his lips, but then he jerked back. At Yves' confused noise, Bran slid to the floor, pressing his forehead against the carpet.

"By the Ash, you don't need to bow to me!" protested Yves, cautiously but insistently tugging Bran up to sit at his side. His grey eyes were wide, the lashes damp with held back tears. "Has the master fucked you yet?"

"N— no," said Bran weakly, taking a shuddering breath and attempting to regain his composure. "I'm still not fully healed."

"Oh." Yves sagely nodded. "So why are you so skittish around me? I'm on your side, as long as you don't do anything to take advantage of the master, or try to manipulate me."

Again, Bran took his time to reply, obviously thinking of dozens of ways to answer the question, and needing to settle on whichever one was the most appropriate. Yves put an arm around his bony shoulders, trying to reassure him. Once more, Bran first responded to the touch, then tensed.

"Okay. Now you're making me paranoid," said Yves, his voice threaded with irritation.

"I like it when you touch me," said Bran miserably. "But the master said I'm his. I'm not allowed to do anything with you without his permission and for his pleasure. He's gone all afternoon and now I've made you upset."

His cheeks were scarlet. Bran seemed to be furious with himself, and Yves felt a sudden rush of tenderness for him. He was special all right. Yves could think of only a couple of potential buyers for a boy with his heart so on his sleeve, and was certain that Holden had the same short mental list.

"Bran, honey, I've been the master's slave for a long time. He's only looking out for you by making sure you understand your role and place while you relearn to trust that people aren't going to hurt you for no reason. It would never cross my mind to fuck you without the master's permission, certainly not before he has, and that's a moot point anyway. But a little kissing isn't forbidden, and if you want to cuddle while I read, that's fine. I'm sure the master will be glad to see that we're getting along."

Bran gave him a hesitant smile, the kind that started and stopped on his lips, not reaching his eyes. "You're probably right," he began.

"I know I'm right," interrupted Yves, mentally admonishing himself as he saw Bran flinch.

"Yes, you are, but the master didn't say anything about it being okay to kiss anybody else. After what I did, trying to run away, out of the bathtub…" Bran shook his head, that recent debacle obviously still mortifying to him. "I just— this is hard," he said, stumbling over the words.

"You were in a bad situation before, weren't you?" asked Yves soothingly, running his fingers through the soft tumble of Bran's curls. He nodded, not offering up any elaboration. Yves didn't blame him. "You're safe here. Why don't you just lie down and put your head in my lap? The master will be home before dinner, and I can ask him if it's okay for me to suck you off. I think he'd rather enjoy watching that."

A blush crept prettily onto Bran's cheeks. He smiled, a soft, genuine smile. "I'd like that, too," he said, scooting down the couch and handing Yves his book before settling his head in his lap. "I'd never had, before… only the master has done that for me. He was amazing!"

"You're something else," said Yves, his hand rubbing lazily across Bran's back. He was practically purring. A twinge of jealousy hit Yves, a shadowy whip crack of premonition. Holden would feast on this kind of raw neediness; he devoured adoration. Still, Yves knew Bran's time with them would be temporary. He was lovely and responsive and from what Holden had said, he was quite talented with his mouth. He'd look forward to getting to sample what the boy had to offer.

Bran turned his head to beam up at him. "Thank you," he said, his voice a low velvet of content.

Yves mirrored his smile. "Don't mention it."

**II. Exposition**

Yves laughed as Bran gaped at him.

"You can juggle?"

"So it would appear!"

Yves smartly caught the three oranges as they landed one after another from their arc before putting them in the fruit bowl. "I don't think it's that uncommon," continued Yves, still smiling at Bran's enraptured look. "And close your mouth. You'll catch flies."

Bran's jaw snapped shut. He lowered his head and eyes for a moment, but then he busied himself helping Yves put away the few items they'd purchased at the market. Yves made a small noise of curiosity when Bran decided to cling to his back like a starfish, his arms clasped around Yves' waist.

"Something on your mind?" asked Yves.

"Well…"

Yves laid his hands atop Bran's, letting the younger slave nuzzle his neck.

"You're insatiable. No wonder the master dotes on you so much. He'll be home soon— are you sure you don't want to wait for him?"

"I'm hoping he'll want to join us."

Yves' cock hardened at that tantalizing thought. "I like the way your mind works."

Bran laughed into Yves' ear before nibbling on it, and Yves let out a low moan of approval.

"We need to finish putting this food up. But after that, I suggest we go to my room."

Yves turned his head to snatch a kiss. Bran had such a lovely mouth; his lips were an inviting realm of promise. Yves moved Bran's hands down to his groin to show his growing interest.

"Mmmmm." Bran licked the sensitive skin behind Yves' ear. "You'll be a delicious afternoon snack."

Not a quarter of an hour later, Yves found himself lying on his bed with an enthusiastic Bran doing absolutely marvelous things at his groin.

"The master was right," he groaned, holding onto the frame of his bed and pushing up his hips. "You really are good at this." He was treated to the spine-tingling sensation of Bran's laugh around his cock before he sucked again. Yves made an incoherent strangled noise and closed his eyes. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" he said automatically.

Holden opened the door, looking bemusedly at the two of them before closing the door behind him.

"I didn't know that going to the market made you frisky," he said with a feral smile, his hands going to the belt at his waist.

Bran stopped his ministrations and sat back on his heels, gazing at Holden with unfettered longing. He wiped at his mouth, the gesture unintentionally sexy.

"There are all kinds of things to learn about this one," drawled Yves, avidly watching as Holden made short work of getting undressed.

Holden took his heavy penis in hand. "I don't know if I've ever seen anything as inspiring as you two together."

"It'll be even better once you're a part of it," husked Yves, his gaze ensnared by Holden and Bran kissing. He felt rather left out for a moment, but then he reminded himself that while Bran was obviously smitten and improving by leaps and bounds, he would still be sold. Holden pulled back, his hands cupping Bran's pert buttocks.

"I want some of this," he growled possessively.

"Yes, please master," crooned Bran, rutting against Holden's rapidly growing arousal.

"Where's your lube?" asked Holden, gently pushing Bran back toward Yves.

"Where it always is, master," said Yves, glancing at his bedside table. "C'mere, you," he said, pulling a wriggling Bran to him. "I want some kissing, too, before you get back between my legs."

"Yes, yes," murmured Bran, nipping and sucking Yves' bottom lip. After a few moments of intense tongue wrangling, Holden said, "Bran, sweetheart, scoot back. I want you to keep Yves' cock occupied and I'm going to fuck you."

"Yes, master," said Bran, his voice rich and syrupy with arousal.

"Are you certain you can focus on Yves and not hurt him by accident?" asked Holden, pushing his slicked cock into Bran with one long, slow push. "I don't want you to be too distracted, but I want you to enjoy yourself."

"I'm certain, master!" gasped Bran, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he pushed back against him. "I'm up to the challenge."

"I'm really growing to like you," said Yves.

Bran opened his eyes, gave Yves a heated smile, and eased himself downward so he could take Yves' aching cock back into his mouth. Soon there were only monosyllabic grunts and the distinctive sound of balls slapping against a firm ass and Bran's whimpers around Yves' cock.

"Bran, oh yes, your mouth," groaned Yves. He made sure he held Holden's gaze as he sucked three of his own fingers in his mouth and pressed them into his grasping hole. Holden nodded, his stare molten as Yves fucked himself with his fingers. Bran was a conduit, as though Holden were fucking Yves through the other slave. After a time, Yves' attuned ear picked up on a change in the young slave. He could tell by the rising pitch in Bran's stifled noises, as well as his increasingly erratic technique, that he was close to coming.

Holden, astute as always, was paying equal attention and he said in a voice roughened by passion, "Come when you want, Bran."

Bran's response was to wail as much as he could with his mouth full. Then he paused and somehow managed to yell around Yves' cock, the vibrations lancing along his nerves like static electricity.

"Yves, sweetheart?" said Holden, face flushed.

"Yes, master?"

Yves had begun feathering his fingers down the side of Bran's face, lifting his visage until Bran let Yves' straining cock free.

"Bran deserves a rest."

"Would you like to fuck me, master?" asked Yves hopefully. He felt there was nothing wrong with the newest slave being able to see that ultimately he was the only slave who would be staying, and that he was Holden's favorite.

"Does the sun rise in the east? Of course. Bran, honey, you've done very well," Holden went on, rubbing at Bran's lower back as he eased out of his body.

"Thank you master," said Bran. A shadow of dejection crossed quickly over his features.

"You haven't been healed for all that long," Holden gently reminded him, drawing him in his arms for a deep kiss before focusing on Yves. "Move those fingers," he demanded. Yves complied, melting into Holden's embrace, his legs spread and waiting for him. "That ass is mine, you're mine, always," he murmured before sinking deep into Yves' loosened muscle.

"Always," echoed Yves as Holden proceeded to pound him into the mattress.

When Bran's wistful look caught his eye, Yves didn't even try to keep his gloating to himself.

**III. Development**

Bran lay quietly until he'd heard Lee's regular, sussurative breaths for a full five minutes according to the bedside clock. He was still wide awake, his own memories of Dunaev having surfaced like noxious bubbles in the lake of his mind. He decided to see if anyone else was up; he could always return and sleep at Lee's side and take comfort in his body, as thin and lanky as it was. He, too, was a survivor.

After carefully extracting himself from the bed, he cautiously opened the door and walked through, closing it with a soft snick. He considered going to Holden, and started down the hallway when he saw a faint light under Yves' door. _What was he doing up?_ he wondered, and knocked gently at the door.

"Come in!" was Yves' immediate response.

Bran did so, and saw Yves sitting in his bed, a bedside lamp glowing on its lowest setting, a book cradled on his thighs. He looked curiously at Bran.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," said Bran, coming to sit on Yves' bed. "Lee was having a nightmare, and I stayed with him while he had a cry and then went back to sleep."

Yves nodded his understanding. "You're really good with him," he said, giving Bran a comforting smile.

Bran shrugged, still caught up in remembrances he wished he could scour from his memories. "I had it bad, but Lee suffered worse than I did," he said, thinking of the fear and then relief that had been on Lee's face when Bran had shaken him awake from his night terrors.

"Only you can really understand what he went through," said Yves gently. "Do you want to lie down with me for a while?"

"Yes. Thank you." Bran gave him a grateful smile. "It's awfully late— why are you still up?"

"New book," replied Yves, patting it with his long fingers. "And to be candid, the master's been rather preoccupied with Lee and then this business with the interviews and Valor and everything else. I've not been called on as much of late."

"He does have a lot on his mind," agreed Bran, taking off his tunic and sliding under the covers at Yves' side. "Yves?"

"Yes?"

The older slave had moved the book on top of a stack of four on his bedside table and then spooned against Bran's torso.

"This lawsuit thing. What if—" Bran couldn't bring himself to say the words. They seemed so utterly foreign and fantastical.

"What if we're freed?"

Yves helpfully filled in the gap when Bran's tongue resolutely stayed tied.

"Yes. What… What would you do?" said Bran finally. "Would you leave? Could you?"

Bran looked into Yves' blue eyes, seeing the lines at the corners for the first time. He was nearly the same age as Holden, and Jer. Bran suddenly felt incompetent, unworthy of being looked up to, as Lee obviously did. He wasn't naïve, but in a perverse way, Bran had been sheltered. He felt unworldly.

Yves propped his head on his hand, looking not so much at Bran as through him. Bran suspected his thoughts traversed in dozens of directions at once, only honing in with razor sharp accuracy and insight when it came to matters to do with their master. Or math.

"I'd like to go to university," said Yves at last, his voice soft but confident in a shade of nuance Bran didn't think he'd heard before. "I'd be an atypical student to say the least, but that's what I'd want to do. As far as being a slave is concerned, I've had the best life a person could ask for."

"The master loves you," said Bran fervently, at peace with this knowledge since Holden had professed the same to him.

"And you, and Jer, and Alix, and Valor. It's a long list," said Yves, attempting to sound put out but not succeeding.

"I've never known anyone who's gone to university." Bran ignored Yves' sidetrack. "Aside from Lord Taganov, that is, but I don't really know him. I've only been around him a couple of times."

"What about you?" asked Yves. He rolled onto his back and pulled Bran to him so he could rest his head in the warm crook of his neck. "There are places called culinary schools out in the wide world, you know. They teach you how to cook and bake all kinds of things."

Bran considered this. He'd not heard of culinary schools, but frankly, it didn't matter. Absentmindedly he mouthed a few soft kisses along Yves' neck.

"Even if I were free, I'd stay here," he said, knowing in the pith of his being that there was no other truth for him. "I wouldn't mind doing some traveling, but I'd only want to go if I went with the master. Or you. Maybe Lee, one day, if he's able to recover."

"Not Jer?"

Bran heard the smile in his voice. "I'd be safe with Jer, but… he seems awfully independent."

"I think he'd absolutely explode out into the world," mused Yves, his fingers drawing fanciful patterns on Bran's back. "That, or he'd go off somewhere and become a recluse. I can imagine either scenario. At this point it's irrelevant anyway."

Bran yawned. The reassuring solidity and musky warmth of Yves' nude form had banished the whirling troubles from his head, leaving only exhaustion. Yves let out a snuffled laugh.

"Tired, honey?"

"Yes."

Bran regretfully began to pull away until Yves said, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Um…" Bran lifted his head and beamed sleepily at Yves. "Nowhere?"

"That's right."

Bran kissed the slightly stubbled curve of Yves' jaw, received an unhurried, chaste kiss in return, and then Yves reached out and turned off the lamp.

**IV. Recapitulation**  


__  
Dear Bran,  
  
Being at university is unlike anything I could have imagined. I love it, though of course there are some aspects that are troubling. I'm older than everybody— well, all of the students — and the campus is busy with students studying, chatting, and inevitably, partying. I don’t' care about the last part. You must know I've written to Holden a few times— I trust that he's read my letters to you, or perhaps given them to you to read. You're not Lee: you can easily read my handwriting, or so you've said.  
  
But until now I'd not written to you independently. In so very many ways, it's such a foreign thought to my mind, writing to you as one free man to another.  
  
I was his for so long. I don't harbor the same kinds of jealousies I did when you first appeared and then simply wouldn't leave. Well, there was the once, but then Holden got you and I knew you'd never leave again. You have to understand: Holden and I aren't very far apart in age, at all. And he was an ex-slave himself. He understood everything. How to act as a freed slave, how to be the best owner there ever was. He was a master, literally and figuratively.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Okay sweetheart, humor me. For some atmosphere, I'm hiding away in a corner of the library, but I'm still a novelty. I hate that. I'm so glad to be here, don't get me wrong, but I do feel that I'm an anomaly. No one else here was a slave before. Not the boy who's fallen asleep on the couch, an open book splayed on his chest, snoring…  
  
* * * * *  
  
I just went outside, leaving my paper and pens on the table. It's a quiet night. The moon looks chewed up, as though the gods were hungry. Logically I know it's in its waning phase, but it felt good to write down what can only be the merest suggestion of poetry. That said, a writer, I'm not.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Do you keep Holden warm most nights? I miss him more than life itself. He knew I needed to do this. And yet, I'm a fish out of water in so many ways. I love learning, and in that, I'm doing well. I feel I'm breathing rarified air. I don't take being here for granted, as so many of the other students do.  
  
Carnally I miss Holden and you, and even Jer, like nobody's business. I can't stomach the thought of seeking anyone out here. I'm with my academic peers, to be sure, but I've also never felt so alone. It took me a while to learn how to sleep alone, night after night after night with no reprieve of a warm body needing me. I'm glad you're with Holden. I think it might well have broken him in some irreparable way if all of us had left him. How is Lee? Lord Taganov has always seemed like a gentle man, with a very big heart. I think they will do together for as long as Lee remains with him. For his sake, I hope it's a long time.  
  
This was rather rambly. If you don't want to write me back, I understand. But from my own mindset, writing this letter, I've been able to imagine I'm sitting with you on one side and Holden on the other. I can't wait to be home again.  
  
Love to you, and Holden, and anyone else you deem appropriate.  
  
I'll see you in a couple of months.  
  
Love,  
  
Yves 


**V. Coda**

Yves had never felt like this. Well… his satisfied but not exactly sated thoughts nudged insistently at him. He'd imagined — entertained, briefly — these feelings before. He'd never dared to vocalize them until now. Now he was a free man. The ache that he'd come to realize could only be fulfilled by two particular men came roaring to the fore. Holden surely would know such an act was possible, and Bran, sybarite that he was, could doubtless be brought on board. Yves' cock began its first re-stirrings of life as he formulated the words, running his fingers through his lover's sweaty, greying hair.

"Holden?"

Holden stirred, his eyes suddenly alight at the tone of invitation. "Yes, sweetheart?"

Yves devoured him with his gaze. "I've had this idea…"

"I like the sound of it already."

"I figured you would."

A white-hot jolt of absolute bliss shot through him at being reunited with Holden after his first semester away at university.

"This idea does involve me, I hope," rumbled Holden, and Yves kissed his quirked lips.

"Oh yes," he purred. "You and Bran."

"I _definitely_ like this idea."

"You and Bran together."

Another rumble like an approaching jungle cat sounded in Holden's chest.

"You and Bran in me," continued Yves in a sultry voice. "At the same time."

Holden's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Yves slowly nodded.

"After all these years," said Holden, his eyebrows sliding down to their usual location, "you've managed to truly surprise me."

"You've never done that, have you?" husked Yves, rutting slowly against his lover's growing arousal.

"No. But in this case, the inability of teaching old dogs new tricks doesn't apply. I'll go get Bran."

"Yes, do, mas—" Yves bit off the decades-ingrained word just in time. A look of melancholy rushed across Holden's features before he gave him an apologetic smile. "Please get him," said Yves instead, feeling his eyes burn slightly with the potential approach of tears. He blinked them back as Holden kissed him firmly on the lips.

"Gods, but I love you so much," said Holden fervently.

"You, too."

Yves did some perfunctory cleaning up of himself and made sure there was still plenty of oil. He had a brief flashback to a time relatively early in his years with Holden when his then-master had taught Yves the tricksy art of fisting. Now, in the present moment, hearing Bran's bouncing steps approach the door, he felt a similar electric rush of power. The sight of his entire hand buried in Holden's body and the noises he'd made had branded themselves in Yves' being. To be able to have both of them fucking him at the same time would be equally unforgettable, Yves was certain.

Bran entered the room and went straight for the bed. Yves noticed that unlike Holden, Bran wasn't in a visible state of excitement.

"Is something wrong, honey?" Yves asked him. Bran shook his head, and rose up from his seated position enough so that Holden could pull his tunic over his head. "I haven't made you feel left out since my return, have I?"

Yves pulled Bran down to him so they lay on their sides, chest to chest, his fingers kneading the smooth curves of Bran's backside. Holden soon lay down behind Bran, allowing Yves to ripple his fingers along Holden's cock.

"Maybe a little," admitted Bran. He gave Yves a guilty smile. "But you should get as much time with Holden as you want. You've been away for a few months."

Bran's body was responding now, and Yves feasted on his mouth. Bran made groans and whimpers of pleasure; Yves draped one leg over him.

"Fuck me with your fingers, sweetheart," he said. "Make sure I'm good and stretched."

Bran readily complied, and Yves held their cocks in his hand, hot flesh against hot flesh.

"Love, are you at full mast?" asked Yves, his body tingling in anticipation.

"When I'm grinding into this perfect ass? Of course," he rumbled before biting down on Bran's neck.

Bran let out a breathy sigh as his eyes fluttered closed.

"So beautiful, both of you," murmured Yves reverently.

"Flatterer," said Holden. His expression was that of a ravenous man sitting down to a feast. "Can we fuck you now?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Yves drawled.

Bran looked at him as he removed his fingers, his face troubled for a moment. "Are you sure we won't hurt you?"

"I'm sure. Besides, Holden's had me twice this afternoon already. This wasn't a whim I just came up with." Yves gave Bran a heated smile and then eased up to a seated position, looking to Holden. "I'm going to ride Bran, and then if you'll join in, behind me?"

"Fuck, yes."

Holden go up on his knees, cradled Yves' chin in his hands, and kissed him soundly and deep. "I've missed you so godsdammed much," he finally said when they broke apart.

Bran had taken the opportunity to suck on Yves' cock while he was otherwise occupied, but then let it slip from his mouth. He sprawled on his back, slicking up his erection that curved rightwards above his thigh.

"I've not exactly enjoyed my temporary celibacy," replied Yves, straddling Bran's groin. "I've not gone that long without sex since I was bought by Holden, back in the dark ages."

He winked at Bran before sinking down on him with a grunt of satisfaction. Yves rode him for a time, Bran making irresistible whimpering noises as Yves moved up and down. He felt warm hands on his shoulders and he paused, Bran buried deep in him.

"Ready for me to join in?" asked Holden, breathing hotly into his ear.

"Yes," said Yves, sounding pleading more than declarative.

"Lean forward."

Yves draped himself on Bran, kissing him hungrily as he felt Holden's slippery cock press at his already full hole. Consciously he tried to relax, though there was a burning heat concentrated where Holden slowly pushed in.

"Loki's stones," swore Holden as he pressed in deeper.

"Oh fuck!" gasped Bran, his eyes wide and wild as he stared at Yves.

"Yes! Yes— fuck me!"

Yves' words were little more than a rasp as he surrendered to the pain, his channel adapting to the unfathomable fullness of both men's cocks. He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the pressure, of the grunts and profanity as Bran and Holden fucked him in tandem. Yves' ass was a magnifying glass, the discomfort morphing into a heightened, larger than life sensation of being stretched and filled. He felt like a god.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as they pushed and slid inside him.

"It's— too much!" cried Bran, and Yves' eyes flew open. "I'm going to—"

"Yes," panted Yves, pressing down and back, sparks dancing on the periphery of his vision. "Come for us, honey."

Bran made a strangled moaning sound and thrust a few short times before his hips jerked and stilled. He let out a long, reedy cry as Yves felt his release.

"I'm not far behind," warned Holden.

"Hold me," begged Yves, and pushed himself back so Holden could wrap his strong arms around him.

"I fucking love you so much," murmured Holden, who found a way to thrust more aggressively into Yves' strained channel.

"You too." Yves' eyes were hot with prickling tears.

From years of experience, Yves felt the unspoken countdown of Holden's orgasm. His own cock bounced, heavy and soft in one hand.

"Fuck, gods," groaned Holden as he held Yves in a death grip. A string of animalistic noises poured into Yves' ear as Holden's release shot into him. Yves let his head fall back, and balanced himself with one hand on Bran's taut belly.

"Not bad for an old man, hmmmm?" said Holden once he'd caught his breath.

"You watch your tongue." Yves' voice was low and rough with affection. "I'm nearly your age." He raised his head and saw Bran looking wistfully at him. "Do you need a cuddle, honey?" he asked, squirming a bit uncomfortably now that the torrents of passion had passed. Bran nodded vigorously and Holden laughed.

"You're making me look bad!" said Holden as he carefully withdrew from Yves, allowing Bran to then uncouple as well. "You practically have my undivided attention anymore."

Yves slid down to Bran's side, grateful that Holden intuited to spoon behind him.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" asked Holden, his fingers barely grazing Yves' cock.

"No, not right now."

Bran painted Yves' face with delicate kisses, finally snuggling against him. He threw one arm over Yves' side to reach for Holden at the same time. "I've really missed you," he said softly. "Thanks for letting me be at part of… this…"

His words drifted off, but Yves felt he understood what Bran meant. This was a taste of paradise, bruising his heart because he would be returning to university in a few weeks. There was no question in his mind, though, of the rightness in continuing down that path.

Holden's warm fingers stroked his cheek. "It's so good to have you home, sweetheart."

Profoundly sore, sticky and fully satisfied, Yves made a contented noise, sandwiched between two men he loved unreservedly.

"You're a welcoming party that's truly one of a kind."

Silence reigned for a time until Bran's stomach gurgled. Sheepishly, he looked at Yves.

"There's a welcome home dinner, too," he said. "Do you mind if I clean up? Or maybe all of us together?"

Yves turned to look over his shoulder at Holden, who nodded. His look of rapturous disbelief was as gratifying now to Yves as it was the first time he'd seen it, those many years ago.

"All together," he said, smiling. "All together."  



End file.
